


Circle in Sandryland

by Dedicate Kiwicrocus (cranky__crocus)



Series: SMACKDOWN '11 R2, R3, Final - CIRCLECEST [4]
Category: Alice in Wonderland (1951), Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen, Goldenlake, smackdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-03
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 55
Words: 16,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranky__crocus/pseuds/Dedicate%20Kiwicrocus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day out in the sun, nearly ruined by the ridiculous idea that the lot of them needed knowledge, of all things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SMACKDOWN at Goldenlake: fiefgoldenlake.proboards.com
> 
> The formatting goes a bit crazy but Microsoft Word frustrated me to the point that I no longer care. Hope it doesn't take away from the reading too much! Also, this is a ridiculous story - I hope you don't expect anything else.

            Sandry, Tris, Daja and Briar sat outside on the green across from Discipline cottage. Or at least, the first three sat; Briar was up in the tree again. Niko’s voice droned on from whatever book he was reading about ambient magic—even Tris was hard-pressed to pay attention as a lightly-coloured butterfly flew past on the way to the nearest garden (probably Rosethorn’s).

            Niko caught Briar’s foot, which was dangling. His voice was stern. “Briar.”

            Briar sighed. “I’m  _listening_.” He offered his ear for a moment, but it was long gone again as the three tickled at his magic. Little Bear barked.

 _Today would be great if Niko weren’t so_  boring, he told his sisters.

            Even Tris didn’t argue this point—and she was usually the first to have her teacher’s back. Sandry and Daja sent along their agreement.

            Another day out in the sun, nearly ruined by the ridiculous idea that the lot of them needed  _knowledge_ , of all things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry smiled into the flowers she was weaving together.

Sandry smiled into the flowers she was weaving together. It was starting to look like a crown.  
 _What’s that for?_  Briar asked, ignoring Niko’s voice below; the man was reading from some dreadfully boring book they were undoubtedly supposed to remember lately. None of them could be bothered.  
 _It’s a crown._  
 _Waste of daisies if you ask me_ , Briar responded, though he was grinning from where he sat in his tree.  
 _They’re daisies?_  Sandry inquired. Her smile widened at her creation.  _I didn’t know that. Thanks, Briar._  
 _Tighten the weave by tugging_  these  _ones_ , Daja instructed, pointing at one of the woven stems.  _Frostpine had me make a design like that._  
            Little Bear inspected the flowers, resting his maw on Sandry’s knee.  
            Tris just shook her head at the lot of them. However, when Sandry placed the daisy crown over Little Bear’s large head, even Tris had to keep herself from laughing. The flowers fell over the dog’s eyes and he glanced around, confused and snapping at the air benignly as if that would free him.  
            Little Bear shook his head—which shook his body and Sandry too—and the daisy crown flew off, right onto Niko’s head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niko removed a daisy-crown from his face, black eyes narrowing.

Niko removed a crown of daisies from his head, black eyes narrowing. He glanced up at Briar—in a tree—to find the boy nearly innocent, which was well enough to prove innocence, for he never looked  _entirely_ blameless but was also blatant when guilty. Tris was staring at him with cool blue eyes. Sandry, though, Sandry was blushing.  
            “Sandry! Would you kindly pay attention to my lesson? Perhaps the others would  _follow your lead_.” Niko sniffed and turned the page.  
            Sandry sighed. “I’m sorry. Perhaps it would be more interesting with  _pictures_. Lark’s has those—little diagrams to follow. I find those very helpful!”  
            “You would find pictures all the more boring in this instance,” Niko stated, frowning, “for they would be of old men and landscapes.”  
            “Then why,” Briar inquired, “are you reading us the book?”  
            Niko glanced up at him with further-furrowed brows. “Because not all important things are  _interesting_ : a great many boring things are  _important_.”  
            “Like meditation,” Tris remarked. Briar and Daja grinned. Sandry was reclining back against the tree and watching the sun sift through the leaves.  
            “My books would have pictures,” she said softly.  
            Niko coughed, but it was close enough to a laugh. “When you get around to writing them, do let me know. I’m sure they’d be  _fascinating_.”  
            “Or boring,” Briar quipped. “Take your pick, braids.”  
            Sandry smiled at the leaves—she’d ask Briar what they were later—dancing in the wind. Yes, she decided, her books would be  _fascinating_ —fascinating and with pictures! She stroked Little Bear’s head. Everything would be fascinating, or it wouldn’t exist—and if it didn’t exist, there was nothing to ever bore her again, not on a sunny day like this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Have we lost you again?'

_Braids_ , Briar called through their magic. He threw an acorn down on Sandry’s head and it landed with a ‘plop’ at the part between her hair; she rubbed the spot and glared up at him.  _Have we lost you again?_  
 _Oh as if_  you’re  _paying attention to Niko’s lesson!_  Sandry shot back. She glanced to Niko; the man was still reading and brushing a fallen leaf from the book’s pages.  _I was thinking about what the world would be like if Little Bear could talk._  
 _We’d never get any sleep at all_ , Daja responded.  _And Rosethorn would probably hang him._  
 _She wouldn’t. She likes critters—more’n us, anyway_ , Briar remarked. He threw a second acorn at Tris from where he sat in the tree. She glared daggers at him.  _Have we lost you too, Coppercurls?_  
 _No. I was wondering if there are any more worlds out there in the stars, like ours. With people and dogs and annoying street urchins who throw acorns at me. At this point I’m hoping_  not.  
 _I agree_ , Briar answered,  _because then there’d be too many girls._  
 _And too many_  kaqs.  
            Sandry gave a loose and dreamy smile, twirling the hair on Little Bear’s head into a curl about her finger. My _land would be wonderful. It’d be…it’d be Sandryland._  
 _Joyous_ , Tris concluded. Her tone sounded anything but. The others sent along the rounded jab of an eye-roll, but Sandry didn’t pay attention to the lot of them. Sandryland, sandryland…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry wasn’t sure when she had inched around the tree, but she found herself in a field of—what had Briar called them?—yes, daisies.

Sandry wasn’t sure when she had inched around the tree, but she found herself in a field of—what had Briar called them?—yes,  _daisies_.  
 _Oxeye daisies_ , Briar corrected, skidding down the tree trunk and landing next to her in the field.  _Or so Rosethorn says. She ain’t ever wrong ‘bout plants._  
 _Except when she decided to take you on as a plant student_ , Daja remarked through a grin. She leaned against her staff, watching the two. Tris appeared to her side, the last to leave Niko’s tree-side lecture. She still looked uncertain—and a little irked, but that was just Tris. She pulled a book from her bag.  
 _I still think Little Bear should talk. I think everything should. Like flowers!_  That was Sandry again.  
 _Flowers_  do  _talk_ , Briar told her sternly, as Rosethorn had him.  _You just ain’t got the ears to listen_. But his curiosity was at him again.  _Does thread talk, like plants do?_  
 _No_ , Sandry answered. Her smile grew.  _But it communicates; I still know what it’s after as well as we know when Little Bear’s hungry._  
 _As if that isn’t clear enough! His stomach is louder than thunder!_  Tris turned a page in her book and tilted her head, catching Niko’s next few words to know he was still gabbing on.  _The winds talk._  
 _So you’ve said_ , Daja mentioned. She was smiling fondly, dreamily, the way she only did when she thought of the hot call of metals and fire.  _Metal talks. It’s cool and hot at once. It_  sings,  _sometimes, if I listen hard enough._  
 _See, I’m not so crazy after all_ , Sandry said, scratching Little Bear under the chin.  
 _We didn’t say_  that, the three others retorted. They all laughed—softly, to not alert Niko. But Niko was grinning into his book. So it was true, what was said about sunlight: any children could bond under its persistent rays. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Bear nudged at Sandry’s arm as she reclined in the field of daisies, chin resting daintily on splayed hands and raised elbows to reflect optimal sunlight from her dreaming eyes.

Little Bear nudged at Sandry’s arm as she reclined in the field of daisies, chin resting daintily on splayed hands and raised elbows—gathering optimal sunlight into her dreaming eyes. The other three watched the dog. He sure was  _persistent_  today.  
            Sandry gazed up and then back at the dog; she soothed his head. “Oh, Little Bear, it’s just a starling in a tunic with a—a  _worm?_ ”  
            Tris turned to catch a look at it as well. If that wasn’t the funniest looking bird… It held the worm near the side of its head and then spoke—rather loud and hurried, too. “Oh my speckled feathers, I’m  _late_ , I’m  _late_ , I’m  _LATE!_ ” It was off and away before they could question it further.  
            Briar wondered what the stupid bird-brained…well, bird-brained  _bird_  could possibly be late for. And then he had the sense to question why it had spoken in the first place! Daja seemed to have gained her senses faster—but was too surprised for their connection and fell straight into speech, much like the bird.  
            “Did that bird just  _speak?_ ”  
            “No,” Tris answered, eyes wide with her shock. “I would say it shrieked.”  
            Sandry must have been nearly at napping, for she took it all in stride. “I think it’s curious. What could it be _late_  for?”  
            The other three never had the chance to tease her, for she was off and running after it an instant later, Little Bear at her heels. They really had no choice but to follow, leaving Niko and his boring lesson behind.  
            So much for knowledge: an adventure always trumped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date!”

“I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date!” a well-dressed starling was shrieking from up the path of Winding Circle, which was surprisingly empty. “No time to say hello, good _bye_ , I’m late, I’m late, I’m  _late!_ ”  
            It hurried off again, Sandry not long off its trail. Little Bear bellow-barked from her side. Sandry inquired, _What could it possibly be late for? Surely a party, or something exciting! Follow the bird!_  
 _Yes, let’s not do the sensible thing, like ask why it’s_  talking, Tris huffed as she followed after the girl and their two other siblings. Briar and Daja loped with the skill of long practice.  
 _I’m with Tris on this one_ , Briar said, but his pace did not waver.  
 _Then I suppose I must be with Sandry, just to be fair_. Daja laughed as she ran.  _Traders always say curiosity leads to inventive crafts and worthwhile goods._  We  _aren’t supposed to have it, but I do!_  
            Four children and a bear-like dog followed a hopping-fluttering-scurrying starling through Winding Circle, all the way to the Hub’s kitchen.  
            “No no no, I’m overdue! I’m really in a stew! No time to say goodbye,  _hello_ , I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” The bird was shrieking as they came to the Hub’s kitchen. Briar was suspicious when there was no Gorse to be found, but even more suspicious when the starling flew straight into a pot on the stove.  
            Or when he saw Sandry was nothing more than a little figurine of a girl standing precariously on the handle of it. And then he thought he had the knack of it—surely this was a  _dream_. He turned toward the others and saw his thoughts on their faces too. But did  _Sandry_  know?  
 _What a strange place to host a ball_ , she murmured as if to herself, peering down into the pot; Daja saw it was an endless hole, no fire to be found. Clearly Sandry was not so self-aware.  
            “We half-brained enough for this?” Briar whispered to Tris and Daja behind his hand. Sandry took no notice.  
            “If she goes down, I am,” Daja answered, watching Sandry carefully. Tris only nodded, slowly, as if she had reservations—like any normal person would. But she was also a reader, and readers held special places in their hearts for dreams like these…  
            Little Bear lifted up to sniff at the pot and in doing so, appeared with Sandry on the pot’s handle. He seemed to think better of it and jumped back down, immediately his incredible size once more.  
 _Oh, what could curiosity do?_  And Sandry was down the pot. Daja jumped straight from the floor over the brim, without ever touching the handle. A moment later Briar and Tris glanced at each other from the surface of the handle. The world was very  _large_  when they were very small.  
            “Are we really doing this?” Tris questioned, as much to herself as him. “This is hare-brained…”  
            “Then Sandry’s a hare,” Briar confirmed as he looked down the hole. “But that’s where we’ve got to go.”  
 _If I don’t see you two down here, the Trader gods won’t stop my revenge._  
            Briar shrugged, grinned at Tris and jumped over. Tris followed him a second later, dress spreading out around her as she rolled her eyes at the trouble her friends had clearly got her into again.

            But the four were following a starling down a starling stew, and there wasn’t much they could do about it at that point—save hope the landing didn’t kill them. Surely even Niko’s lesson was an improvement over death…


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry was chasing a vest-apparelled starling down a long and twisting corridor.

Sandry was chasing a vest-apparelled starling down a long and twisting corridor. Daja landed behind her in a crouch and lifted off with her staff, following the girl down the dark hall. Briar landed and rolled, turning in time to see Tris fall to the floor in a pile of cloth. She sat up to find herself sitting on a cloud.  
            “Well that was convenient,” she announced, breathing hard. “Normally things fall  _from_  clouds.”  
            “Let’s chat about it later, right?” Briar yanked the girl up by her arm. “Daja and Sandry are after that starling again! Who knows what trouble they’ll get in without us.”  
            Tris could only agree. She set off as fast as she could, which still slowed her and Briar down. They crawled through a set of increasingly smaller doors and entered a very tall room to find a very surprised Sandry.  
            “The doorknob won’t let me through,” she told the new arrivals.  
            “Did you try  _turning_  it?” Tris questioned, her tone less than helpful.  
            “She did,” Daja answered. She looked perplexed. “But it told her a joke. It wasn’t even a  _funny_  joke. It was like Niko’s jokes, that only Lark seems to laugh at.”  
            They spoke over Sandry’s pleading. They all knew she was stubborn, but they thought it unlikely she would out-will a  _knob_. She gazed through the doorknob’s open mouth. “There’s the starling!” She reached for the knob, but it moved away.  
            “ _Please_ ,” she urged, as if that would do any good.  
            “No. You are much too big. It’s simply improbable.”  
            “You mean impossible,” Tris corrected, frowning. The doorknob gazed up at her, one eye wide. It sniffed—with what nose, Tris hadn’t the faintest.  
            “No, I mean  _improbable_ : nothing’s impossible! But with your hugeness and my considerably-smaller rightness, wouldn’t you say it’s exceedingly  _improbable_  that you would fit through? And the discomfort! No. I’m afraid while you are that tall and I am this small, you will stay there while the starling takes to air.”  
            “I thought doors were annoying enough when they were just closed ‘nd locked,” Briar whispered. “But I hadn’t met one that rhymed yet, clearly.”  
            Tris and Daja laughed. Sandry just looked distraught.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briar had got over the talking doorknob.

            Briar had got over the talking doorknob he and his friends had just met. They were in a starling’s stew and were the size of his thumb, so he’d seen stranger things that morning. But he couldn’t get over the knowledge that he couldn’t do what the doorknob had just told them to do—which was read the instructions to the bottle on the table.  
            He stuffed his hands in his pockets as the girls all hurried over. Sandry was looking at the label.  
            “What’s it say?” he asked, gruff and a little offended. He hated being left out of the  _girls’ club_  because he couldn’t do something.  
            “It says to drink it,” Tris answered, reading over the brunette’s shoulder. The doorknob was still babbling on about directions being directive.  
            “Why ain’t you drinking?”  
            “Because usually, if someone wants you to drink poison, they put it in the place you’re perfectly likely to find it and perfectly likely to  _drink_  it,” Sandry expressed, frowning. “What’s more perfect than a bottle labelled ‘drink me’?”  
            “Surely it ain’t perfect enough, if you’re doubting it.”  
            Daja grinned over at him.   
            Sandry shrugged and poured some in each of the little bowls on the table—four, precisely (and perfectly) placed where a table would have corners, if circles did. “In for the silver, in for the gold!” She sipped hers daintily. She smiled as she shrank, to Tris’ horror, but noticed without concern that the flavour reminded her of cherries, dessert, exotic fruit, chicken and ‘goodness!’ as she collapsed under the bowl. She lifted it off her head and wiped the leftover liquid from her hair, gazing up at each of her friends with her most commanding noble expression. “Well,  _go on!_ ”  
            Briar and Daja shrugged, lifting their bowls. Tris swallowed, throat dry, and followed suit. Their circle shrank.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briar, Daja and Tris were shrinking, which Briar thought was hilarious, given they had already shrunk in the kitchen.

Briar, Daja and Tris were shrinking, which Briar thought was hilarious, given they had already shrunk in the kitchen. He didn’t find it so hilarious that Sandry was already frowning when they reached her, pre-shrunk. When Sandry frowned, it usually meant something big was about to happen.  
            “What’s the hitch, silk-stitch?” Briar asked, glaring at the doorknob the girl had been speaking with, just out of intuition. Tris joined in—she was adept at glaring, anyway, and still had no valuable input for conversation. What did one respond to ridiculousness?  
            “He says he’s  _locked_ , which he happened to miss out before, and the key just appeared up  _there!_ ” Sandry pointed at the table they had just drunk the shrinking potion from; they could see the key shining through the underside. “We can’t climb it.”  
            “We don’t have to,” Daja answered, staring up at the key. “I can feel it. Let’s save  _everyone_  some tears. Briar, join your vines up with me and we can catch it up; Tris, you lengthen our reach and blow us in the right direction. When we’ve got it, you spin us in, Sandry, alright?”  
            Sandry nodded, chin stubborn and set. Briar and Daja held hands, schooling their breath to sevens and shooting their power up to the table, vines laced with red-hot veins of metal. A gust of wind blew their magic across the table; Briar grew a long bramble thorn from his magic and caught the eye of the key.  
 _Pull!_  Daja instructed.  
            Sandry formed a drop spindle in her mind and wrapped her friends’ powers around it like wool, dropping it down and spinning them in. The key landed on a cloud near Tris. Sandry loosened her connection on the spindle, which reverse and separated them once more.  
            Daja called the metal to her and it jumped into her hands. She blew off the cloud condensation and grinned at Tris, who reciprocated the look. The Trader turned to the rude and ridiculous doorknob.  
            “No more games from you. We’ve had it.”  
            “So you don’t want these?” the doorknob offered, pushing his nose in the direction of a chest that appeared before their eyes. It opened to reveal pastries and cakes reading ‘eat me!’ Briar’s stomach growled.   
            Tris glared at him. “Don’t even think about it, or I’ll frame you with stealing one of Rosethorn’s tomatoes.”  
            Briar stiffened and nodded. He wasn’t a fool, that was for sure.  
            Daja stared down the doorknob. “No, we  _don’t_. And just so you know, you shouldn’t have iron keys—they’ll rust.”  
            “But—”  
            The doorknob was muffled by Daja’s forceful thrust with the key. It clicked in without restraint. She smiled over her shoulder at her friends. “Teaches doors from trying to keep  _us_  back, doesn’t it?”  
            “I ain’t never been beat by a door before, and I wasn’t gonna go losing to one  _now_.” Briar grinned and grasped Sandry’s hand. “We’ll find that silly starling yet.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daja crawled through the little door she had just unlocked and found herself on a boat, which she thought was remarkably peculiar.

            Daja crawled through the little door she had just unlocked and found herself on a boat, which she thought was remarkably peculiar. She turned over her shoulder. “Sandry, did you say you saw the starling through the door?”  
            Sandry nodded as she crawled through the door as well. “It was right—” she paused as she was met with an ocean. “Well. It isn’t  _here_.”  
            “I’m not so fond of being on the sea,” Tris commented as she tugged herself and her dress through the door. Briar scrambled out after her and groaned, but by the time he turned the door had disappeared.  
            “Ugh. Stuck on a boat with a bunch of whining girls.”  
            “I’m not the one whining,” Daja pointed out. Being on a boat was nothing new to her; she could work the sails practically in her sleep. The remarkable—remarkable and  _strange_ —thing that caught her attention was the willow swimming through the water ahead of them, weeping out a remorseful song about being unable to fix herself because the water was out of bandages. There was a highly displeased lark hopping about in the willow’s branches, attempting to avoid splashes of water while pecking at the tree’s bark.  
            Tris stared suspiciously at the tree and then the water, as if it were laced with spirits.  
            The willow caught sight of them. “Well wishes, and other watery things!” it called to them. The lark pushed with its head, urging the tree onward. The willow moaned, “Land ho! To the looms we go!”  
            “Hope I never meet a stupider tree in all my life,” Briar said, frowning.  
            “But it’s headed to looms!” Sandry reminded, smiling. “Perhaps we should follow it.”  
            “I’d really rather not.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four Circle children were out for a leisurely sail through whimsy-infested waters.

The four Circle children were out for a leisurely sail through whimsy-infested waters. Briar thought he spotted a crane fly high over -head, a rose vine in its beak. Tris was sure she saw a line of shelled creatures swimming past, but Daja caught her attention and had the weather-witch divert a wave (which was far easier than diverting the whole tide).  
            Tris adjusted her eyes and set vision on the willow tree they had previously seen swimming. It was directing some sort of bizarre ritual with a gaggle of seabirds and sea-creatures, which would occasionally disappear under a wave. She caught wind of the words being sung and stared at her friends.  
            “The daft willow is trying to get them dry by directing them to run around in circles…in high tide!” She explained. She turned to Briar. “I must agree: may we never meet a stupider tree.”  
            As they sailed by, Tris guiding them with winds, she turned to the willow. “They’ll never get dry that way!”  
            “Of course they will!” it called back, ignoring the lark pecking perniciously at its apex. “It is the dance of the dry! We all get dry when we dance for it!”  
            “Or, as I’ve found,” Daja answered back, grinning, “when you  _get out of the water_.”  
            “Now where’s the sense in  _that?_ ” the willow asked with a laugh. “Bandages or dance, ‘tis the only way. Why, look how dry am I!”  
            Sandry didn’t bother pointing out that the willow was dry because it was on a rock and gripping with its roots, which were damp with the water’s spray. They all seemed to have reached consensus that engaging this silly  _Salix_  was the least of their concerns—and only an exercise in futility.  
 _Rosethorn would_  never  _put up with this witless willow_ , Briar concluded with a sigh.  _Don’t think Lark would, either, in fact._  
            The others sent along their agreement. Tris declared that their dedicates would rant their exasperation of The ‘Water Temple Way’ and write them off. The others agreed with that in equal force.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry was watching the sky over the ship she and her friends sailed.

Sandry was watching the sky over the ship she and her friends sailed. A sparkling bird in a vest—an earthworm nestled on its back—appeared out of thin air. It was the starling they had all been looking for.  
            “The starling, the starling!” she called, pointing up at the bird. It was flying toward the land. “Tris, give us a push!”  
            “Only if you all prepare to jump,” Daja instructed, taking in the short distance to land. “We’re going to beach.”  
            Sandry and Briar nodded while Tris called in a large wind. They surfed in on wind and wave, all jumping free of the boat when they reached sand. Daja landed with her staff pressed into the sand; Briar landed on crouched knees and one hand; Tris landed on her bottom atop a cloud, the second time that day, and Sandry fell slowly down with her dress mushroomed out around her. She was running as soon as her feet touched down, the others not far behind her.  
            Unfortunately, by the time they reached the woods by the sea, the starling had disappeared. Sandry sighed and called out for the starling, but heard nothing in response.  
            “Surely a lost cause,” Tris resolved with a frown.  
            “Don’t say such a thing!” Sandry replied, hurrying around the nearest tree. “He’s got to be  _somewhere_ around here.”  
            “But if ‘here’ is big enough, we won’t find ‘somewhere’,” Briar decided. He crossed his arms. “Woods are a good place to hide.”  
            “And if the starling is hiding, we’ll just have to seek him out.” Sandry’s gaze was stubborn. Daja grasped Briar’s hand and shook her head, clear in her meaning that they would all fail to knock sense into Sandry—especially in her own dream.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawling through logs, Sandry decided, was not the cleanliest of activities.

            Crawling through logs, Sandry decided, was not the cleanliest of activities. She touched her hand to her dress and urged the dirt off; it fell off her in a wave, right onto Briar’s head. The boy grumbled and coughed.  
            “Niko’s gonna make me spend extra time in the baths now,” he whinged, shaking his hair out much like Little Bear would. “Thanks ever so, Sandry.” He clambered out of the way so Daja and Tris could get by.  
            When they turned around, they found two figures that very clearly had not been there before. Tris’ hair sparked; Daja’s staff emerged; Briar withdrew a knife from his chest. Sandry just stared.  
            “What peculiar little people.” She read the embroidery on their robes. “Needle See—” the figure had Niko’s eyes, somehow, “—and Needle Sum.” Sum looked at her with a haughty expression, which seemed to lengthen his nose. Briar thought he saw some Crane in the action.  
            The four watched them dance over the log, both Needles looking incredibly unwilling. They finished with a pose on the other side.  
            Sandry clapped. “That was very nice, but it’s time for us to leave now, goodbye!” The others followed her a few paces, but were stopped by the two Needles.  
            “Haven’t  _you_  started it out wrong—” Needle See started.  
            Needle Sum added, “—for didn’t your parents teach you ‘good day’ arrives before ‘so long’?”  
            “That’s manners,” they both finished, nodding to one another.  
            Sandry sighed. “Well I’m Sandry. This is Daja, this Briar, and the sparking one is Tris. We’re all a little irked, if you don’t mind, and bad things start to happen when we’re irked. We’re looking for a starling.”  
            The ground below them trembled some, roots all yearning to reach up and sooth Briar’s upset.  
            The Needles told them the lesson had only just started, but Sandry led her friends on through demands for all sorts of lessons: research, meditation, hearth-side talks. Sandry rejected them all, resolute yet surprisingly polite.  
            “If you stay,” Needle See said.  
            “We may just play,” Needle Sum stated, looking grumpy.  
            “A game of Do Your Chores today!” That was both of them and they were grinning, wickedly, to each other.  
            “We  _can’t_ ,” Sandry responded. “We’re looking for a starling.  
            “And your offer is hardly appealing.” Daja nudged one out of the way with her staff. “Chores or lessons? We think not.”  
            “Why are you looking for starlings?”  
            “When there are much more interesting things?” Needle See and Sum were nearly as stubborn as Sandry.  
            “I’m curious is all—”  
            “She’s  _curious_ ,” whispered Needle See to his partner.  
            Needle Sum nodded once, eyes closed and forlorn. “The little loom was, too.”  
            Sandry turned. “Little loom?”  
            “You wouldn’t be interested,” Needle Sum summed up. “You said it yourself.”  
            “’Twas yourself who said it,” Needle See agreed.  
            Briar and Daja sat down on the log. It was clear Sandry’s curiosity had bit down on something, and it was more likely an angry dog would release than Sandry’s curiosity. Tris joined them a second later, also recognising that it was story time for Sandry. The four heard all about the little loom and ridiculous dedicates. They rolled their eyes in resignation.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry sat upon the log next to her friends, staring at the two odd figures before them.

Sandry sat upon the log next to her friends, who were staring at two odd figures before them. One possessed Niko’s black eyes and the other Crane’s behaviours. Needle See and Needle Sum, those two were.  
            “ _The Water and the Earth_ ,” Needle Sum introduced.  
            “ _Or The Curious Little Loom_ ,” Needle See explained. They nodded to each other. When the song started, Daja groaned. A pair of singing needles. Couldn’t they have been nattering nails, or plotting plants, or laughing lightning?  
            They introduced the scene: midnight over the loomhouse. A Water and Earth dedicate were walking shoulder-to-shoulder. The Earth dedicate decided that, with enough work, the Temple could reach its quota for cloth production two weeks early. The Water dedicate had gasped and sighed, for oh what fun was _work?_  She spoke of magic high and low, of dreams and spells of fluff.  
            The Earth had thoughts of other stuff, of work inside the room; she walked right in and held a grin for  _there_ was a magicked loom! But Water thought she could do best and held back the earthen pest. They exchanged a look, their hands were shook, and Water stepped on in.  
            She told the loom the day was there to see the sun and feel the air! So take a walk with them, she said: be free from loomhouse dread. The loom was quiet for a while but turned to ask his weaver: could he trust this Water woman, or was she a deceiver? The weaver thought the latter true and told him not to leave, for if he left the loomhouse they would all have much to grieve.  
            Water shoved the weaver far and grinned with all her might; she explained the stars and waterfalls, the joys of day and night. The loom heard this and pranced about with dreams and such delight; he followed the woman off and away until they were out of sight.  
            Earth was there with warp and weft, prepared for Water’s theft. Together they strung and tied and tugged, ‘till loom was ready and plugged. Water told Earth to fetch them some oil for spells and magic galore; Earth groaned and glared but set off again to complete her dreaded chore.  
            With Earthen gone, the Water’s song changed pitch and sounded wrong. Her spells were naff and fingers gaff and pained the young loom so. He cried out to the night and stars but found none yet to listen and by his back a knot of thread fell right where a tear would glisten.  
            But Earth came back with oil in tow and saw what Water had done; Water stood but grass rose faster to prevent her future run. Earth tackled her down and rolled on the ground, yelling, “That will not happen again!”  
            The loom was frightened as he snuck on home and decided the lesson was this: he could be happy without sun and stars, for home was safe and ignorance bliss. Magic in a loom was simple to abuse if laziness had its way; it was better to weave with thread and skill than let magic in to betray. He would wait for a weaver whose skills were improving and magic was found to be inner, for life would be simpler with mages and weavers who worked their way up from mere spinner.  
            “And that is the story—”  
            “Of Air dedicate’s glory—”  
            “Sum, Air isn’t involved!”  
            “Which is why I’ve resolved Air is better.”  
            Needle See sighed and shook his head, turning to the children. “That is the story of  _The Curious Little Loom_.  
            “That was a very sad story,” Sandry said. “Thank goodness I am not a loom.”  
            Needle See was prodding Needle Sum; their attentions (rather limited, Tris thought) had wandered away from Sandry. “And  _Fire_  wasn’t in the story either, so surely by your logic Fire is excellent too.”  
            “Fire! Now I have plenty of stories about fire. Why once a chilly pine—”  
 _Let’s get out of here_ , Briar urged.  _I’ve had enough of pointy things that sing. That was a stupid story, too._  
            They escaped back into the wood, leaving the Needles bouncing about with their newest story.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daja, Briar, Tris and Sandry managed to escape the forest and the two strange approximations of teachers they had found there.

Daja, Briar, Tris and Sandry managed to escape deeper into the forest, away from the two strange approximations of teachers they had found there. They found themselves at the bottom of a small hill, a quaint little house situated on top. The former three exchanged look, but the final member of their party was barging along ahead, murmuring about whose house it could possibly be.   
            “Mareeh, Mareeh!” a voice was shrieking from the top floor. Sandry hurried along the path. A starling in a vest appeared, an earthworm standing attention atop the bird’s head. The bird hopped and looked up at her. “Mareeh, Mareeh! Don’t just do something, stand there! My reed, my reed, do get my  _reed!_  I’m late!”  
            “But it isn’t my—” Sandry began to argue.  
            “ _My reed, do you hear?_ ” the starling shrieked after her. The other three followed Sandry into the house, glancing or glaring at the strange bird and shaking their heads.  
            “I’ll be taking orders from Little Bear next,” Sandry muttered, hurrying up the stairs.  
            “His would be simple: feed me!” Briar reported, grinning. “It’s an idea I share.”  
            “How could you be hungry at a time like this?” Tris shot over her shoulder.  
            Daja was hopping up the stairs three at a time—they were very little stairs. “If he’s not hungry, he’s sick.”  
            “She’s got the right of it,” the boy confirmed.  
            They entered a bedroom at the top of the stairs and found Sandry searching the room. She was asking aloud, “If I were a starling, where would I keep my reed?”  
            “Not in a  _house_ ,” Tris answered, huffing. “Senseless starling.”  
            Sandry opened a box and found biscuits marked ‘eat me’; she picked one up. “Don’t mind if I do.”  
            “Well  _we_  do!” Tris snatched up the cookie and threw it out the window. “It’d probably go turning you big again. We’ll just save everyone the pain and discomfort, shall we? I’m just getting used to being this small.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four properly-sized children left the quaint little house on the hill.

Four properly-sized children left the quaint little house on the hill. Sandry wielded her reed—a whole box of them!—with pride. When she glanced around to find the starling that had requested them of her, she found there was nothing but an empty garden.  
            “Well that’s peculiar,” she announced, still glancing about. “The starling  _was_  here.”  
            “Not  _all_  here,” Daja commented, chuckling as she circled her finger around next to her head.  
            Tris nodded. “He’s a few birds short of a flock.”  
            “A few trees short of a forest,” Briar agreed, grinning with the other three. Even Sandry giggled at that; he turned to look at her. “Although what does it say that we’re willing to ransack a house to find reeds for a senseless starling?”  
            Daja’s eyebrows rose. “Tells us street-boy hasn’t lost his instincts.”  
            “But this was  _Sandry’s_  fault,” he whined, glaring at the black girl. “She’s the one that’s so set on following the stupid thing.”  
            By the time they reached the road, they saw the willow tree they had earlier seen swimming; she was walking side-by-side with a pine tree dusted in snow and carrying a ladder.  
            “Frostpine, my dear boy, I do say this will make you  _famous_. The girls will be all over you.”  
            The pine tree plucked a cone from his branches and wielded it at her. “Who’s to say they aren’t  _already_  all over me, Willowwater?”  
            “Quite,” she responded, splashing water all about with her delight. It caught Daja, Briar, Tris and Sandry smack in the faces. The world began to shrink.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here we go again,” Tris groaned as she felt the world shifting around her—or her shifting around the world, one couldn’t always tell.

“Here we go again,” Tris groaned as she felt the world shifting around her—or her shifting around the world, one couldn’t always tell. Her stomach turned over. “I would like to remain the same height for more than a day, now, if we could.”  
            Briar sighed up at the tall grasses. “I’d never thoughta ‘knee high to a grasshopper’ like Rosethorn says quite so…so…”  
            “Literally,” Daja supplied, clutching her staff close to her. She was relieved every time it changed height with her. The three looked about, expecting a reply from Sandry—but she was off and running after a silly starling again! They followed after.  
            They ducked under leaves of all sorts, large flower heads standing proud as a tree would, if they were the right size. Up ahead, they could hear Sandry muttering “oh dear” and “cat dirt” and at last “I’ll never catch him while I’m this small” (they could see by now she had her hands on her hips).  
            Briar’s stomach growled as they caught up with Sandry.  
            “Couldn’t you hush that monster of yours for a while?” Tris snapped.  
            Briar held up his hands. “Not when the butterflies look like bread! Look there!”  
            Three sets of eyes followed his and watched six butterflies land together on a leaf, each appearing as a slice of bread at the fold of their wings and creating the very picture of a bread loaf when all sidled up together.  
            “You mean bread-and-butterflies,” a voice corrected them. They all turned to each other, attempting to decipher who had spoken—it almost sounded like Rosethorn, in a rare delighted mood.  
            An insect landed on Sandry’s nose; she sneezed and frightened it away, but it hovered before her again quite quickly. She inspected it. “A horsefly! Oh, no, a  _rocking_ -horsefly.”  
            “Naturally,” the voice concurred. Briar was watching the flowers closely.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The flower is talking,” Briar announced, pointing at a rather radiantly red rose.

“The flower is talking,” Briar announced, pointing at a rather radiantly red rose.  
            “The  _rose_  if you would be kind enough for correctness,” the rose responded, turning to poke him in the nose with one budding flower.  
            “But flowers can’t talk.” Tris stared.  
            Briar turned over his shoulder. “And  _I_  already told you they could—before all this.” He gestured at the strange Sandryland they had found themselves in.  
            “The boy is surprisingly right,” the rose—who sounded just like Rosethorn—stated.  
            “We talk if there’s anyone worth talking  _to_ ,” a nearby-snapdragon snapped. “Which is rare.”  
            “We sing, too!” remarked a few young tiger-lilies.  
            “I know one about a lovely larkspur,” the larkspur stated softly. The rose turned and shook its flower-head at her.  
            “As if we haven’t heard  _that_  one a thousand times.”  
            “And I suppose no-one’s heard a song about a  _rose?_ ” the larkspur retorted, giving the rose a tickle. It poked the plant with a thorn as revenge, but its flower was held higher in what Briar decided was joy.  
            The other flowers all threw in suggestions for the song they should sing: lily of the valley, daisy duet, tiger-lily tango… The rose at last called them to attention with the closest sound to a bark Briar had ever heard a flower utter.  
            “We are singing Golden Afternoon, and that’s final!” The rose gave Briar another poke with its flowering head. “That’s about all of us.” It turned to the larkspur. “Sound you’re A, Lark.”  
            The larkspur sang a note. The others followed. The four children sat on four level leaves, which some of the taller and stronger flowers provided for them.  
            Bread-and-butterflies swirled around them and the tulips. The morning glories yawned. Dandy daffodils pointed proud noses at the rocking-horseflies. The tiger-lily kissed the dandelion; Sandry applauded that. (Briar huffed. Rosethorn wouldn’t have no dandelion in  _her_  garden.) The rose shook the rocking-horsefly off her young flower head, which she was using to conduct her floral orchestra.  
            Briar grinned at the line ‘You can learn a lot of things from the flowers and especially in the Rose-time moon’, thinking you learned mainly about  _weeding_ , but learning from Rosethorn was endless.  
            The bread-and-butterflies led Tris to pipe in a few notes, but she wasn’t much a singer and Daja winced, grinning. Daja was taught to tug the bell-chimes. Sandry was instructed to play the stipule-harp. Briar danced, instead, loping and light and hilarious to his three friends.  
            The song finished with two daisy-cymbals. Sandry clapped. “That was lovely!”  
            “I would hope so,” the rose responded, brusque but with a hint of pride. The larkspur snuck over her shoulder, inspecting Sandry with curious floral parts.  
            “What kind of garden do you come from?”  
            “I’m not a flower, actually,” Sandry answered. The larkspur gasped.  
            “Aren’t you! A wildflower, perhaps?”  
            The rose inspected Sandry’s hair. “What species are you? Or family? I haven’t seen your like, and I’ve seen the like of many.”  
            “I suppose I’m a Sandry.” She pointed at her friends. “And this is a Daja, and a Tris, and a Briar.”  
            The rose looked the boy up and down. “Well I’ve heard of a  _Briar_.” She turned back to Sandry. “But you’ve peculiar petals—and those roots! Useless, if you ask me.”

            “I didn’t,” Sandry answered, glancing down at her perfectly-fine feet. The flowers picked on her—lack of fragrance, ridiculous stems, no sepals whatsoever! Sandry kept insisting she wasn’t a flower.  
            “She’s blushing like one,” Daja whispered to Tris. But the Trader stepped forward. “She isn’t a flower!”  
            “Then she is a weed!” an iris accused, darkly.  
            “We will be if you don’t stop picking on her,” Briar insisted, glaring at the flowers. “We’ll weed up the whole place.”  
            “Out with you, boy-flower!” the rose pushed him with two flower buds. “No weeds in my garden!”  
            Briar grinned. “That’s what I thought.” He grabbed Sandry and Tris’ hands, twitching his head at Daja. “Let’s scram!” They ran.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briar was sliding down a hill (or mound, he supposed, if he hadn’t been shrunk) on a wet leaf when he looked up and saw letters flying in the sky.

Briar was sliding down a hill (or mound, he supposed, if he hadn’t been shrunk) on a wet leaf when he looked up and saw letters flying in the sky. It was only thanks to Tris that he could name them, he supposed. They were floating over a rather dark-looking forest of flowers, leaves and ferns—far darker than the flower garden they had just left, but hopefully  _kinder_.

            He waited for the others to make it down the hill. They had not employed leaves. Daja made it down next.  
            “Are those floating letters?”  
            “Yep.”  
            “Have they spelled any words?”  
            “None that I could see, but best ask Tris.”  
            Tris was catching her breath from the run. She watched the letters for a number of seconds. “Doesn’t look it. Too many strings of vowels and then consonants.  
            “Well I was always taught to follow my nose,” Sandry announced as she stepped up behind Tris, “and that set there clearly said ‘nose’.”  
            The three looked up again and found they couldn’t argue with her. It seemed a bit unfair, they thought—arguing with Sandry was usually useless anyway, but more so in the girl’s own dream.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry heard singing as she marched along the dark forest of plants beneath the letters the four had seen floating in the sky.

Sandry heard singing as she marched along the dark forest of plants beneath the letters the four had seen floating in the sky. She stepped out from behind a final fern to see a dark-looking caterpillar sitting atop a mushroom, a strange gourd-shaped object with pipes beside him. He was holding the end of a pipe in his arm, the tip entering his mouth.

            He was singing about the feeling of smoke and where smoke could go, it seemed; the next word he spelled was ‘mouth’ followed by a number of vowels. He was grinning.

            Sandry watched, entranced and unsure.  
            The Caterpillar sucked on the straw-like pipe again and at last noticed her—then the other three who emerged behind her.  
            “Who…are you?” he inquired through smoke letters: o, r, u.  
            “I’m not sure,” Sandry announced, “as I’ve been given reason to doubt it since this morning.”  
            “Well  _I’m_  still Briar—ain’t no taking that from  _me_.”  
            “I don’t feel any less like Daja, not when I’ve got my staff.”  
            “Stature is not important to my feeling of being Tris.” The girl crossed her arms and stared up at him.  
            Sandry envied the comfort they had in themselves.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who are you?” Tris asked the caterpillar she could see atop the nearest mushroom.

“Who are  _you?_ ” Tris asked the caterpillar she could see atop the nearest mushroom. He was reclining against a thin leaf, now, sucking on his odd elongated pipe.  
            He gazed at her through one eye, then back at Sandry. “Why should I tell, if she cannot?”  
            “But I don’t  _know_  who I am!” Sandry snapped with one delicate foot-stomp. “If I knew I’d tell!”  
            “We know  _what_  she is,” Daja remarked, grinning. “What she is is  _stubborn_.”  
            “But stubborn is not a ‘who’, no matter how pretty the ‘what’,” the Caterpillar insisted, taking stock of Sandry’s hair and prettily-pinked cheeks and pristine dress. “And without her who, you shan’t know more than ‘what’ from me. I am a Caterpillar.”  
            “I’da known that in my sleep!” Briar called up, frowning. “And she’s Sandry. Or Sandrilene fa Toren, if you want her in her noble glory.”  
            The Caterpillar barked out laughter. “Noble glory! You wouldn’t say. But then, no, you wouldn’t,” he turned to Sandry, “for you don’t know who you are. You should probably work on that.”  
            “Well  _I_  say—”  
            “You can’t,” the Caterpillar interrupted, peering through the newly-blown letter U. “For you haven’t got an ‘I’ if you haven’t got a ‘who’.” He held the I atop his hand. “You see?” The U and C joined together, forming I C U on his palm.  
            “You’re ridiculous,” Tris informed him. “Utterly ridiculous. Sandry, why are we wasting our time?”  
            Daja and Briar exchanged looks, then grabbed one of Sandry’s arms each. The girl didn’t seem upset by the movement; she coughed away the Caterpillar’s smoke, stomped her foot and walked with them.  
            “But wait! You four—or three and a what—come back! I have something important for you!”  
            “Not with that brain he ain’t. I saw people on worse drugs than that walking the streets of Sotat, and they had more sense than  _him_.”  
            The other three nodded.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Looks like we have no choice,” Sandry decided—and they knew that was that. “It’s time to eat the mushroom.”

The Circle kids were once more walking through a dark forest of tall plants. Or, less the plants were tall, and they had been made short. It also seemed that the caterpillar they had just spoken with was not finished with them—though perhaps in its last form it was.  
            A butterfly fluttered over their heads. “I have the answer to your problem.”  
            “How could you, if you don’t know what our problem is?” Tris asked it, features hard.  
            “You all told me, indirect-it-ally,” it informed her with the butterfly equivalent of a sniff. “And here I have exa-cet-ally your corre-ca-tut answer: one side brings you up while the other brings you down; one will bring a smile while the other brings a frown; choose your side correctly and your head will likely be somewhere atop the flower-heads for sun and stars to see.”  
            He flew off in what seemed to Tris less like flight and more like an aerodynamic temper tantrum.  
            “Rosethorn told me never to trust mushrooms,” Briar said, shaking his head, “not if I wanted to keep seeing straight and everything right-coloured and as her student. Some can  _kill_.”  
            “And I would generally advise not listening to talking insects, but what else can we do?” Tris wondered, sighing. “Three inches is awfully short.”  
            “And the starling we’re looking for, provided it hasn’t changed since lunch, is much taller than we are. We’ll be food,” Daja pointed out.  
            “Looks like we have no choice,” Sandry decided—and they knew that was that. “It’s time to eat the mushroom.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed to take longer to get back to the mushroom the children had just left than it had taken to leave—but that was Sandry’s imagination for you.

It seemed to take longer to get  _back_  to the mushroom the children had just left than it had taken to leave—but that was Sandry’s imagination for you. At least it had not moved, and was precisely where they had left it.  
            Sandry instructed them all to grab a corner. Each of them did just that. “Take a tiny nibble.”  
            Briar and Daja shrunk a foot. Sandry and Tris grew two; they kept eating. The other two jumped up and grabbed some mushroom from the other side, eating it until they were as tall as their friends—and, to their dismay, as tall as the  _actual trees_  of the forest.  
            There was a bird’s nest and a very disgruntled lark atop Sandry’s head. It squawked unceremoniously and stared over the edge of its nest.  
            “If you would be so kind as to return me to my tree,” it murmured, prodding at her with one wing. “Whatever you are.”  
            “I’m a little girl!” Sandry answered, though the frown between her eyebrows appeared as more of a canyon.  
            “I sincerely doubt  _that_ ,” the bird remarked, holding her eggs close. “But that tree is quite special to me, so my request stands.”  
            “Eat a bite of this,” Daja said, holding out the tiny the mushroom she had used before; Briar handed his to Tris. Soon they were all headed back down to ground. Tris suggested they all  _lick_  the correct mushrooms, and use just one as a test.  
            Sandry looked down at them from her correct height and nodded. The others followed suit.  
            “I don’t trust these, but we should probably keep ‘em,” Briar stated as he tucked the bits of mushroom into his pocket, clear in which went on which side. The others again followed.  
            “Perhaps we can stay this height until dinner,” Tris hoped, following Sandry back into the wood. Briar’s stomach growled.  
            “And perhaps dinner won’t be long off.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four Circle children were back in the forest. Sandry inspected a large tree in her path; Briar bumped into her as he, Tris and Daja arrived.

The four Circle children were back in the forest. Sandry inspected a large tree in her path; Briar bumped into her as he, Tris and Daja arrived.  
            “These are useless signs,” Daja commented, taking in the signage: up, down, this way, not this way, right way, wrong way, what way?, that way!, go back, come forward, where are you going? and other such ridiculous directions.  
            “So which way should we go?” Sandry questioned, glaring at the ‘go back’ sign—no, she never had been very fond of  _that_  idea. Nor was she fond of singing—as she heard now—for it reminded her of that strange old caterpillar-butterfly they had just escaped. The forest was also lighting up in brilliant colours, which Briar thought was not a very forest-like thing to do.  
            They were all thoroughly sick of this forest, yet there they were, staring at a collection of rubbish signs. Such was life in Sandryland.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where is that singing coming from?”

“Where is that  _singing_  coming from?” Sandry muttered, checking behind a giant tree root. The unidentified singing continued from somewhere in the forest she and her friends were in. “I’ve had enough singing.”  
            “Lose something?” a voice inquired from…from a giant grin in a tree! The four gaped at it. How often did one find a disembodied and dis-en-faced grin?  
            “I—uh—well, you’ll find—I think— _no_ ,” Sandry finally concluded.  
            “Oh, but of course, do excuse me,” the grin said, moving in a rather animal-like manner. Two yellow eyes appeared atop it; a tongue emerged; the face and body and swinging tail of a purple-pink cat appeared in the tree. Sandry gasped; of all the things one could expect, it was not generally something like  _this_. “And a-one, a-two-, a-second-chorus-just-for-you!”  
            The singing started up again. Sandry laughed. “You’re a  _cat!_ ”  
            The cat lifted his ears up with his tail, as if they were but a hat. “A  _Summersea_  Cat,” it clarified. With a swish of its tail it began to disappear again.  
            “Wait!” Briar called out. The cat’s eye peeked from under its tail again.  
            “A-ha! Yes, third chorus…”  
            “No,” Daja said firmly, “we were wondering where to go from here?”  
            She was asking a cat for directions. The Trader gods had to be laughing at her.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where you go depends very much on where you want to get,” the cat explained, if such a statement could be considered an explanation.

The Summersea Cat the four were speaking with in the forest looked very intently at Daja, then at her three friends. It contemplated the question Daja had just asked: where should they go?  
            “Where you go depends very much on where you want to  _get_ ,” the cat explained, if such a statement could be considered an explanation.  
            “We don’t know where there is to get; we only know that the places we’ve been haven’t been very nice,” Sandry responded. “And we would prefer not to go back.”  
            “If you don’t know the where you  _want_ , the direction you  _need_  is not very important!” The cat began to disappear, singing again. Cat prints appeared walking toward Sandry, and then around either side of her. The cat appeared in a tree on the other side of the path. “But if you must know, he went  _that_  way.” The cat was pointing both directions; Sandry raised an eyebrow at him.  
            “ _Who_  did?”  
            “Why the starry starling.”  
            Sandry’s face lit up; even Briar, Tris and Daja felt the subtle spark of excitement. “He  _did?_ ”  
            “He did what?” the cat questioned, forever grinning.  
            “Go that way!” Sandry clarified, pointing.  
            “Who did?”  
            Sandry stomped her foot, arms splayed out behind her. “The starry starling!”  
            “What starling?”  
            “Didn’t you  _just say_ …?” Sandry sighed and turned her back on the cat, who was balancing on its own head. “I mean to say,  _cat dirt_.”  
            “However,” she heard the cat say behind her; she glanced over her shoulder at it. “If I were looking for a starry starling, I would ask the Mad Metalman.”  
            “The Mad Metalman?” Tris repeated, scoffing.  
            “No, no, thank you I’ll—” Sandry started.  
            “Or,” the cat cut off, “there’s the Whacky Weaver.”  
            “Yes, I think I’ll—”  
            “Of course, he’s mad too,” the cat mentioned with an astonishing lack of remorse.  
            “But I don’t want to go among  _mad_  people!” Sandry complained, hands on her hips.  
            “Oh, you can’t help that,” the cat taunted through a grin. “Most everyone’s mad here.” It laughed, eyes rolling in its purple-furred skull. “You may have noticed that I’m not all there myself.” And, indeed, parts of it were disappearing by the second, bright pink stripes the last to fade.  
            “Cat dirt again!” Sandry cried as she took her first steps toward the Whacky Weaver. “If everyone here is as mad as those we’ve already met, we’ll have to try our best not to upset them.”  
            Daja grinned and whispered to Tris and Briar, who walked along behind as she did, “Does she see  _no_ resemblance between herself and these mad creations?”  
            “Apparently not,” Tris replied, regretfully. “Of course she would choose the Whacky Weaver.”  
            “I’d have chosen the Mad Metalman.”  
            “Shock.” Briar elbowed her. “Isn’t there a Genius Gardener here, or something?”  
            “The last garden we met wasn’t so kind,” Daja said, referencing the flower garden they had recently escaped. “The weaver has to be an improvement.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four Circle children emerged from the forest to find a gate and a garden beyond it, lit from tree-hung lanterns above.

The four Circle children emerged from the forest to find a gate and a garden beyond it, lit from tree-hung lanterns above. There were two incredibly peculiar people at the far end of a steam-covered table.  
            Sandry snuck in to get a closer look: the steam came from a gathering of dancing teapots; the singing was about someone’s birthday. No, Sandry corrected, someone’s  _un_ -birthday. Whatever was an  _un_ -birthday?  
            The others hurried after her as she approached the table. Tris cleared the steam with a gust of wind while Sandry was gazing below it, through the dancing kettle handles.  
            “A very merry unbirthday to me!”  
            “To who?”  
            “To me!”  
            “Oh me!”  
            “A very merry unbirthday to you!”  
            “To who?”  
            “To you!”  
            “Oh me!”  
            The strange tea-drinkers continued their song.  
 _They’re a few trees short of a forest too_ , Briar drawled into their minds, sending along images of the singing Needles and swimming willow they had all recently seen. Daja and Tris giggled; Sandry was preoccupied with the tea and singing craftspeople—what in Emelan…?  
            Daja half hoped they wouldn’t get any answers this time. Answers here were more useless than questions.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A very merry unbirthday toooo…you!”

“A very merry unbirthday toooo…you!” two tea-drinking madmen in a garden finished as the Circle children watched. Sandry applauded them; the other three merely exchanged looks. Surely they were in for more madness.  
            The figures caught the sound and bounded over the table toward the Circle children.  
            “No room, no room I’m afraid—loom’s full, not another thread, do roll on out of bed!” The Whacky Weaver announced—or Sandry had to assume she was a thread-person of sorts, for she was wearing a thimble on her head.  
            “Another nail will crowd the wood so off with you, for good for good!” The Mad Metalman agreed, splashing tea in his dark-skinned face and wiping it off with his beard. He wore a crown of blunted nails on his head.  
 _Time to go again, then_ , Tris called into their minds.  _They said it themselves._  
 _We won’t be missing much_ , Daja concurred, tugging at Sandry’s power.  _Let’s leave._  
 _I’m sick of mad people_ , Briar whined.  _Sandry, let’s go!_  
            Sandry considered leaving. She considered it for a whole second. But then she sat down, and her consideration came to an end.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps there was something to be found amongst all this madness, then.

The four Discipline youth had fallen into a garden tea party within the depths of Sandry’s surprisingly mad imagination. They were apparently not welcome.  
            Sandry smiled up at the Whacky Weaver and Mad Metalman, who had only a moment before been singing a celebratory song about their  _un_ birthdays. They weren’t very pleased to see her, given they’d just told her she was one thread and one nail too many.  
            “But how I did love your singing!” she told them earnestly. It was much more enjoyable than the Summersea Cat’s or the Needles, Sandry thought; she and her friends had escaped them earlier that day.  
            “Do you think so, now?” the Weaver asked, smiling and clapping her hands together. “Now isn’t that delightful!”  
            “What a wonderful young girl you are,” the Metalman commented as he removed his elbow from a teacup. “Stay, stay—another forge for the flames! We hardly ever get company. Do stay for a cup of tea!”  
            Tris thought they may not receive company if they kept shooing their guests  _away_ , which she had learned was generally not adequate hostess behaviour. It never stopped  _her_ , though.  
            The Weaver poured out a cup of tea. Briar marvelled at the feat, for in doing so the Weaver had poured the saucer, cup, tea  _and_  sugar—all from the same pot! At the other side of the table, the Metalman was pouring tea by dumping it in his clothing and directing it out his sleeve. Daja found she was most impressed with  _that_.  
            Perhaps there was something to be found amongst all this madness, then.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The garden tea party the four Circle children had accidentally—though perhaps not on Sandry’s part—entered was on-going.

The garden tea party the four Circle children had accidentally—though perhaps not on Sandry’s part—entered was on-going. At least the hosts—the Whacky Weaver and the Mad Metalman—were no longer forcing them out.

            “I’m sorry for interrupting your birthday party.” Sandry reached for the cup of tea the Whacky Weaver held out to her at their garden party. It was yanked away from her.

            “My dear girl, it isn’t a birthday party at all, you’ll find!”

            “No  _no_ ,” the Metalman emphasised, eyes wide, “’tis an  _un_ birthday party!”

            “But what’s an unbirthday?” Briar asked, for the girls had been drilling ‘birthday’ into his head for years now and he’d never heard of an  _un_ birthday.

            “It’s very simple,” the Weaver stated, smiling. “It’s…it’s…30 days hath Barley… no, no. For every day that is your  _birth_  day, there are…” The Weaver turned to the Metalman. “The girl doesn’t understand  _un_ birthdays!” she exclaimed at last.

            “Why how  _silly_.” The Metalman lost himself to laughter. “I shall  _elucidate_.”

            The Weaver struck up a conductor’s stance and led the teapots in song. The Metalman began to sing—or speak, Sandry couldn’t always tell—but they found they could not always understand him through his beard and the steam journeying up from his collar.

            “Imagine just  _one_  birthday, every year!” the Weaver called, flipping her spoon through the air.

            “Ah, but there are three-hundred and sixty-four other days!”

            “Precisely why we’re here to celebrate!” the Weaver finished.

            Briar grinned. “I’ve got three-hundred and sixty- _five_  unbirthdays, really, since I ain’t got a  _real_  birthday.”

            The Metalman turned to him. “Then, dear boy, today you are the Unbirthday Guest of Honour!”

            Briar was chuffed with himself. Daja stepped on his toe, but she was grinning. Tris rolled her eyes but found herself enchanted by the animated teapots.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were all a little shocked to find a puppy floating down from the sky reciting poetry, but had seen stranger things that day and merely shrugged.

Briar wasn’t used to having people sing all around him. But a Whacky Weaver and Mad Metalman were hopping all about, hands linked as they sang about his very merry  _un_ birthday, for he was the Unbirthday Guest of Honour, given he had no real birthday. It was a ridiculous garden party—but that was to come from Sandry’s imagination, surely.

            The Metalman handed him a cake. “Blow out the candle!”

            Briar blew the candle out. The cake exploded upwards and lit the sky with sparkling colours. Tris gasped in surprise. Sandry giggled. Daja whistled, leaning against her staff as the colours continued exploding across the sky.

            “Not too bad for a party, street-rat,” she murmured to him, grinning.

            “Right lot better’n  _yours_ ,” he returned. His smile was fond.

            They were all a little shocked to find a puppy floating down from the sky reciting poetry, but had seen stranger things that day and merely shrugged.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry wasn’t sure she wanted to explain herself at all, not among the mad—but there wasn’t any choice, for everyone was mad here.

The four Circle children sat at a long tea table with some rather eccentric guests.

            “More tea, more tea, more tea!” The Whacky Weaver explained as she gathered the children along and pulled them up the table, all her actions rather catlike. She tugged at threads from her sleeves and teapots poured themselves. “Would you like more tea?”

            “I can’t have  _more_  if I haven’t had  _any_ ,” Tris corrected, frowning some. Briar, Daja and Sandry nodded their agreement.

            The Metalman appeared behind her and used two plates as a cymbal. “I believe you mean you can’t have _less!_ ”

            The Weaver nodded, adding, “You can always have  _more_  than nothing.” She poured the girl a cup of sugar, which made Sandry sneeze. “But you were telling us something, dear—do continue to tell us, and when it ends, stop!”

            The two mad tea-sippers sat astride the table and watched the four children, pursing their lips around tea despite that the Circle kids had yet to acquire any for themselves.

            Sandry wasn’t sure she wanted to explain herself at all, not among the mad—but there wasn’t any choice, for everyone was mad here. She told them her story.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of her adventures had been circling around her head all morning, or afternoon, or whatever time it was when this had started to whatever time it was now. Perhaps saying it aloud would help.

Sandry sighed. The story of her adventures had been circling around her head all morning, or afternoon, or whatever time it was when this had started to whatever time it was  _now_. Perhaps saying it aloud would help.

            She gazed up at the Whacky Weaver and the Mad Metalman, who had just requested she explain her story after she and her friends had interrupted their teaparty.

            “It all started when I was with my friends here and our dog Little Bear—”

            “DOG?!” the floating puppy—he had floated down from the firework of Briar’s unbirthday cake—hollered, exploding from one of the teapots. “Dog  _where?_ ”

            It sniffed and pounced all about, creating quite a stir. Daja caught it at the other end of the table. Briar and the Weaver hurried over at the same time.

            “The silk, the silk! Rub the silk on its nose!” the Weaver instructed, handing Briar a bobbin. The silk ran—or slithered, really—away from him to twine around Sandry’s finger. The Weaver watched it intently. “Well it likes  _you_ , then, picky silk. Come along and rub!”

            Sandry hurried over and rubbed the silk along the little dog’s nose; it calmed immediately. Tris and Daja exchanged glances—in what world save Sandry’s imagination would a trick like  _that_  work?


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was going to get them out of a riddle, it was Tris.

Sandry apologised profusely to her strange hosts for stirring up their table-dog, which had reacted to her use of the term ‘dog’. The puppy was now back in a teapot upon the table and everything was settled, or as settled as it ever was in Sandry’s imagination. It was a strange garden party, certainly, with a stranger pet. The Weaver pushed them all up the table again, mentioning something about “clean cups”—though none of them had secured a drop of  _actual tea_  at this tea party.

            “A half cup for me,” the Weaver said as she sat. She cut her cup in half and held it out to the Metalman, who poured tea into it; the tea remained within the cup. Tris stared at that, wide-eyed; logic said…but she gave up. Logic was clearly not an intricate part of Sandry’s subconscious, which was where she, Briar and Daja found themselves.

            “Don’t you enjoy tea?” the Metalman inquired of his guests.

            “We do, but we haven’t—” Briar started, but was interrupted by the Weaver.

            “Either way, let us make with polite conversation.”

            “Agreed!” the Metalman voiced. “Tell us what you were telling us before.”

            Sandry tried again, carefully avoiding the word ‘dog’. Halfway through her sentence, the Weaver stood.

            “I have a marvellous idea!” she announced, holding up the beater of a loom. It crashed down on the Metalman’s head. “A change of topic!”

            The Metalman nodded, the crown of blunt nails over his eyes. “What causes sharp irritation yet has some metal in-between?”

            Three of the children looked to the fourth, Tris. If anyone was going to get them out of a riddle, it was Tris.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What causes sharp irritation yet has some metal in-between?”

“What causes sharp irritation yet has some metal in-between?” Tris repeated to herself, considering the riddle she had just been given by a few mad tea-drinkers at a tea-party.

            The hosts—the Whacky Weaver and the Mad Metalman—stared at her. The Weaver hopped into the Metalman’s lap, burying herself half way into his beard. Her face looked pained. “You think us a sharp irritation? How sad!”

            “No, I—” Tris’ face jerked back in surprise at the turn of conversation. “I was repeating your riddle…”

            “They’re the irritation, Weaver!” the Metalman bellowed, wielding a large metal chair. “And now I’ve some metal in-between!”

            “Oh, the lot of you!” Sandry cried out, frustrated. “This is why we shouldn’t walk among the mad.”

            “She says this as if we haven’t said it all along,” Briar muttered to Daja, frowning. Daja laughed.

            “You could have at least stayed for a cup of tea!” the Weaver said, voice wobbling with her emotions. “We would have liked that.”

            “Well we  _tried_ ,” Sandry stood and started walking away. “But we haven’t the time, now!”

            Daja, Tris and Briar stood and followed her out.

            _Sting_ , Tris declared. _The answer was sting: a sharp irritation with some metal—tin—in-between._

            _That’s actually clever_ , Daja decided; she grinned. _I wouldn’t have expected that from them_.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think all of this is ridiculous.

“Time, time, time!”

            The four Circle mages turned to look at the garden party they were just leaving. The Whacky Weaver was still clinging to the Mad Metalman, half in his beard—ridiculous hosts that they were. A starling was hopping through the gate.

            “N-no-no no no, no time no time no time. Hello, goodbye, I’m late, I’m late!”

            “The starry starling!” Sandry gasped as the bird hopped along the table, listening to an earthworm whispering in its ear.

            “So very very late, I’m late, no time!” the starling was shrieking. A hand grabbed the earthworm from its head, yanking the bird back. The Mad Metalman had it now.

            “Of course you’re late! This worm is two days late!” he dipped it in the tea. He filled the worm with all sorts of things, then, with the Whacky Weaver’s input: silk, cotton, coal, tin, tea and sugar. He stopped at dirt, claiming that was just  _ridiculous_.

            The poor worm rolled around the table, not sure what to do with itself. It couldn’t find the starling.

            “A mad worm!” the Weaver screamed. She took a basket from behind her and shoved it over the worm. “Only one thing to do about a mad worm.”

            The starling watched on, devastated, and hid its face in its wing.

            _I almost feel bad for it_ , Daja confessed as she watched.  _The mad can hardly fix the broken._

 _Poor worm_ , Briar thought with a frown.  _If only they had put it in the ground…_

 _I don’t know who to feel sorry for!_  Sandry decided.  _But I think we should feel sorry for us, too._

 _I think all of this is ridiculous._

They couldn’t help agreeing with Tris’ conclusion.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s go home,” Sandry suggested at last, her voice naught more than a sigh and filled with defeat. “I don’t care about finding that stupid starling anymore.”

A starling at the table sniffled and wiped its beak with its wing. The children watched it prod at a table-top basket with its beak. Underneath the basket, they knew, was the starling’s friend, an earthworm. The Whacky Weaver and Mad Metalman—the tea party’s hosts—had done a right job of ruining the poor little creature.

            “My friend…” the starling crooned, its voice at its least shriek-like the four had ever heard it. “We met on our unbirthdays, too…”

            “In  _that_  case,” the Metalman said, grabbing the starling’s wing, “A very merry unbirthday to you!”

            The Weaver took the other wing; together the two sung the starling out, throwing the bird up and over the gate until it flew away.

            Sandry and the others hurried after the bird—their whole intent was to follow the dratted bird, and not drink (or fail to drink) tea with mad crafters. They were once again relieved to be leaving.

            “That was the stupidest tea part I’ve been to in all my life,” Sandry grumbled as they walked through the forest again. “I’d take tea with just Rosethorn over that nonsense  _any_  day of the week.”

            “Hey! She ain’t that bad!”

            “I prefer to take my tea with those better than ‘not bad’,” Tris said, but her lips formed a little grin and Briar could tell she was joking. They’d all warmed up to Rosethorn, a little.

            “I prefer Lark when she’s not mad,” Daja voiced. The others expressed their strongest agreement.

            “Let’s go  _home_ ,” Sandry suggested at last, her voice naught more than a sigh and filled with defeat. “I don’t  _care_  about finding that stupid starling anymore.”


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They headed back to the path, murmuring to each other about where they had come and where they should go.

Despite Sandry’s decision that it was at last time to go home and leave the nonsense woods they had been walking for too long, it seemed the next stop was no closer to home.  _Winding Woods_ , the sign said.

            Sandry felt something land on her shoulders and the bridge of her nose. She turned to her friends and caught Tris’ eye first. “Tris, you don’t usually wear two pairs of glasses, do you?”

            “So I could be six-eyes instead of four?” Tris retorted. “No.”

            Daja removed a strange pair of glasses from her own face; it seemed almost like a bird, with two long pairs of legs and two big eyes shaped like spectacles. The long nose gave it away. Another strange bird appeared on a branch near Briar; this bird had a looking-glass for eyes. He turned to it and saw himself wearing ridiculous spectacles.

            Briar, Tris and Sandry followed Daja in removing the spectacle-birds. They all placed the birds back on the tree.

            “No thank you,” Sandry told them, keeping her politeness in mind—these creatures didn’t seem  _rude_ , at least. “No more nonsense.”

            They headed back to the path, murmuring to each other about where they had come and where they should go.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was darker than any of them had expected.

On their way through the woods, the four Circle children found themselves in the company of many peculiar creatures. Some were even more peculiar than those they had already become acquainted with in Sandryland, including the talking flowers and bread-and-butterflies.

            There were honking duck-birds that looked as though they had bells attached to their faces. And frogs that were more percussion than anything else!

            “I’ll have to write a book of this when I’m home,” Sandry told her friends as she stepped over the lily pads the frogs had just left. “With pictures, too.”

            The other three followed after and rolled their eyes to each other.

            “This’d be easier if she knew she was dreaming,” Briar whispered.

            Daja nodded. “This all  _started_  when she decided she would write a book.”

            “But if she woke up now, who knows what would happen to  _us_ ,” Tris declared. The others shuddered at the thought. Yes, perhaps it was best they all keep sleeping through Niko’s faraway lesson.

            The woods were no friendlier than his lessons, it seemed. Every time Sandry asked a new set of creatures for directions, they’d squawk or shriek or bellow or whatever else and move away to sit and stare at her, not at all amiable. Apparently this was not the  _sugar and spice_  section of Sandry, but somewhere darker and meaner.

            It was darker than any of them had expected.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s getting dark and I don’t recognise anything,” Sandry whined as she trod through the forest the four were trapped in.

“It’s getting dark and I don’t recognise  _anything_ ,” Sandry whined as she trod through the forest the four were trapped in. Everything appeared to her in shades of black and blue and purple, which frightened her. She clutched the little bag around her neck. “It would be so nice if things would just make  _sense_  for a change.” A bird with two caged smaller birds for a stomach flew by— _that_  didn’t make sense, either.

            A hammer and two chalk-birds (or perhaps they were birds; it was hard to tell in this land) caught Daja’s attention. She pointed at them.

            Tris read what the chalk-birds wrote. “Don’t.” They hopped to another tree. “Step on.” They landed atop a trunk. “The Home Rats.”

            “Don’t step on Briar, then,” Daja remarked. Briar bumped her with an elbow.

            The fuzzy coloured things all around them hopped up on little leg-like structures and hurried together to form an arrow, which moved as one toward a red path.

            “A path!” Sandry gasped, as if it were a saviour come to rescue them.

            “I’m not sure at this point that we trust paths,” Tris drawled, arms crossed. “But I suppose we haven’t got a choice.”

            The four followed the red path to disappointment.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The creatures of the forest were comforting Sandry as well.

Sandry, Briar, Tris and Daja had been following a red path through a forest for a good number of minutes. Sandry’s groan alerted the other three that some form of misfortune was upon them again.

            “Bad dog!” Briar called up at the creature that was taking the path in the other direction—toward them—and sweeping it away with its broom-like maw and tail. “Stop that!”

            The sweeping canine took no heed of the words. It stepped off the path in front of Sandry, stepped along forward and hopped back on after Daja. The four were left on a rectangular patch of red, certainly a path no more.

            Sandry was nearly at tears. “I suppose we’ll just—we’ll just stay where we are.” She sat on a nearby rock and rested against her hands. Daja and Briar hurried to comfort her from both sides; Tris sat at her feet and gave a few pats to the girl’s knee, unsure of what else to do.

            “Maybe someone will find us…” Sandry said, sadly, wringing her hands. “But who would look for us  _here?_ ” The others let her talk. “If…if I had listened earlier, I wouldn’t be here, would I? But that’s my problem. I give myself  _very_  good advice but I very seldom follow it…”

            Daja hid her grin in Sandry’s hair. That was their Sandry, alright. Briar caught the grin and gave a little smile in return, even as he squeezed Sandry’s shoulders.

            Tris was watching all the various creatures of the forest peek out to watch them. When Sandry started singing to herself—some song Pirisi had taught her, no doubt, for Tris couldn’t understand it while the others seemed to—more creatures emerged. Tris saw eyes, too, where more gathered.

            The creatures of the forest were comforting Sandry as well.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always in Sandryland, it felt like a remarkably dead end.

Tris watched animals of the forest gathering around she and her friends; she noticed that the creatures’ eyes were wet. Whatever Trader song Sandry was singing, the creatures of her imagination understood it too, for they were crying with her. Tris nudged her head to point it out to Briar and Daja; their eyes widened as they saw it.

            As Sandry sobbed, the light faded and the creatures of the forest disappeared.

            Tris thought she saw a crescent moon rising above them, but when she heard singing she groaned, for that meant it was more likely than not a  _cat_ —the  _Summersea_  Cat.

            Sandry jumped up—knocking Briar and Daja away accidentally—and turned to stare up at the purple and pink-striped cat. “Oh, Summersea Cat, it’s  _you!_ ”

            The cat’s tail fluffed out behind it, forming an approximation of wings. “Did you expect…the starry starling?”

            “No!” Sandry shouted. She wiped her eyes. Her voice was gentle again. “I mean—I’m through with starlings, with all of this. We want to go home! We just don’t know how.”

            “There is no how, not here, all hows here are Queen’s how,” the Cat responded, looking particularly evil with its ears all flattened.

            “We haven’t met any Queens.” Briar watched the cat suspiciously. “I’d remember  _that_.”

            “You haven’t? Oh, but you should! She’d be mad about you all—simply mad!”

            “That doesn’t sound good,” Daja commented through a frown. “The people we drive mad drive us madder.”

            “Where is she?” Tris questioned, for she realised that whether they wanted to see this Queen or not, there was little else to do.

            “Some,” the Summersea Cat introduced, “go this way.” It pointed. “Others that.” A point in the other direction. “I, speaking personally for myself, take the short-cut.” It pulled a tree branch and a door appeared, opening to reveal a hedge of bushes and a castle.

            Tris sighed and ushered the others in. “Time for another adventure underground.”

            As always in Sandryland, it felt like a remarkably dead end.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris laughed. 'I believe Niko would call that an ‘understatment’.'

Sandry wasn’t excited to find, as she and her friends moved through a maze leading to a castle, that she heard another song. She glanced at her friends to find they appeared no happier than she did. In this place, wherever they were, songs usually meant nonsense.

            They had no choice but to investigate, however, for whatever  _else_  were they supposed to do?

            Daja offered her hands to Briar, who stepped up on them to peek over the hedge; some of the plants parted for him to see.

            “There are cards—playing cards—painting white roses red.” He shook his head and jumped down. “Which is ridiculous—why not grow red roses? Rosethorn would have all their heads for their lack of sense.”

            It seemed the Queen of this land agreed, for when Sandry asked the cards, they told her they had planted the white roses accidentally and would lose their heads if the Queen found out, for she wished only for  _red_ roses.

            And, in no time at all, Sandry was  _helping_  them.

            _Suppose she has any sense, either?_  Briar asked Daja; surely Daja would know.

            _Always, but sometimes her heart speaks louder._

Tris laughed.  _I believe Niko would call that an ‘understatment’._ __


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like Sandry to have an imaginary, pretty, hostile Queen.

Horns blew from somewhere along the garden maze that trapped the Circle children in with playing cards—cards that were painting flowers, with Sandry’s assistance.

            “The Queen!” one of the cards shouted. A bucket of red paint fell onto his head. The cards hid their supplies and threw themselves flat onto the ground. Sandry did the same.

            The three others swapped hurried looks and, at a loss for what else to do, followed suit. An assortment of different cards was headed their way. They seemed to be dancing all about, gathering and branching out as if shuffling themselves.

            “Halt!” a voice demanded; the cards hopped out into a heart around the Circle four and their three card allies. “Count off!”

            When the cards were finished counting, the starry starling flew in blowing a horn.

            “The starling!” Sandry exhaled as the starling stopped at the head of the cards, out of breath from flight and playing.

            “Imperial highness!” it panted. “Her grace! Her excellency! Her royal majesty! The Queen of Hearts!” A little woman with golden skin tickled the starling under the beak with thread. The bird rolled its eyes. “And the Queen’s right hand.”

            _She ain’t too bad looking for a royal Bag_ , Briar said, though he was sure she resembled someone… Tris poked at his power with lightning.  _What? I’m just admiring. I bet she’s mean, anyway._

Daja found she envied the woman’s curves, somehow, but she made no comment. Just like Sandry to have an imaginary, pretty, hostile Queen. __


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four Circle children were stuck in another adventure within the confines of Sandry’s strange imagination.

The four Circle children were stuck in another adventure within the confines of Sandry’s strange imagination. It seemed they had got themselves in trouble again, too, since a Queen towered over them with a considerable frown.

            Briar had guessed the Queen was mean. He wasn’t wrong. The woman, pretty as she was, stormed over to one of the nearest bushes when she caught side of a white rose dripping with red paint.

            She started screaming out about painting her roses red, and who had done it—who had  _dared_  to do it to the royal flower bed? She concluded, “For painting the flowers red, someone will lose his head!”

            But it was not a game of who-done-it, Tris thought, as each card’s fate was sentenced in one fell swoop: off with their heads! Tris hoped she could keep her own; she had grown rather fond of it through her lifetime. The Queen would lose hers before she’d lose her own, Tris decided.

            “And what,” the Queen pondered as she stared down at the four mages, bare foot tapping, “are  _you?_ ”

            The Queen’s lady hurried around from behind her long legs, holding Sandry’s face up with a red drop spindle. “Not a heart. Perhaps a club—?”

            The Queen shook her head at the woman. “Why, it’s a little  _girl_. Three, in fact—and a little boy, too!”

            “I ain’t little!” Briar snapped up at her. Daja whacked him on the head.

            “Boy, you’re little if I say you are.”

            Briar nodded.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandry stood to speak to the Queen of the gardens she and her friends had found themselves in.

Sandry stood to speak to the Queen of the gardens she and her friends had found themselves in. “We were just—”

            But the Queen bellowed out orders instead: toes in, hands up, mouth wider, curtsy, say ‘your majesty’ and a plethora of ridiculous things that Sandry hadn’t had to do since arriving at Winding Circle. Oh how she _missed_  Lark and Rosethorn and Niko and everyone so!

            The others were quick to adjust their stances and manner of behaviour as they conversed with the Queen. They were looking for their way— _their_  way? Always  _her_  way!—home and had questions—which they weren’t _allowed_  for  _she_  asked the questions—and, at last, gave up. The Queen was going to make them play some ludicrous game, anyway.

            It seemed to require hitting hedgehogs through bridged cards with  _birds_. Cranes, if Tris guessed correctly. Sandry and her bird clapped for the Queen’s shot, which had been excellent—probably because the rolling hedgehog and hopping cards did all the work.

            But on the next shot, one of the cards didn’t make it to the hedgehog in time; the hedgehog did not roll beneath it. The Queen decided, once more, that it was  _off with his head_.

            _Temperamental Queen, isn’t she?_  Briar thought as he squeezed his bird’s mouth shut.        _I haven’t met one that_  wasn’t, Sandry declared.

            _We better be on our best behaviour_ , Tris reminded; her bird was sitting neatly on her shoulder.  _This could be worse than trespassing in Rosethorn’s garden._

 _Maybe not_ , Daja sent along with some amusement.  _Rosethorn’s deaths are slower._

The four got a laugh out of that and felt some relief from the nonsense of this world.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four Circle children were trapped in a garden ruled by a Queen who was forcing them to play an odd game involving animated cards, cranes and hedgehogs. It wasn’t any of their ideas of a ‘good time’.

The four Circle children were trapped in a garden ruled by a Queen who was forcing them to play an odd game involving animated cards, cranes and hedgehogs. It wasn’t any of their ideas of a ‘good time’.

            “You’re next!” The Queen of the gardens turned to Sandry, a smug grin plastered over her painted lips. Her eyes were sparkling. Sandry swallowed—she was the ‘you’ the Queen had indicated.

            Sandry attempted to get her bird in order; they were supposed to hit the hedgehog with the bird, it seemed, and get the hedgehog through the cards. Only her bird wouldn’t firm up the way the Queen’s had; her bird just cackled at her, going limp or standing her up at an odd angle and at last  _tickling_  her! The gall!

            “We’ll both lose our heads!” Sandry told it fiercely. It picked her up and threatened to hit the hedgehog with  _her_.

            Briar called to the hedge with his power; one of the roots tripped the bird up. Tris blew Sandry up with some spare wind. Daja sent her  _saati_  support through their mental connection.

            At last Sandry snatched up the bird and twirled it around, hitting the hedgehog in the bottom. This was a terrible way to treat animals, she decided—and if she weren’t threatened with losing her head, she would absolutely refuse.

            The cards hurried out of the way. The hedgehog hit an apple tree. The crowds applauded.

            _She don’t play fair_ , Briar stated, though his mental voice was conflicting—could they sense the barest measure of appreciation?

            _Nor do we_ , Tris responded. Her voice was wicked. Tris didn’t like losing—especially not her head.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have never lost a game!” She glared down at the four children. “Off with your heads!”

The four Circle children were still stuck in the Queen of Heart’s land, playing her ridiculous game by her stupider rules.

            The Queen was not finished playing her game of Birds and Hedgehogs, it seemed, for she hurried after her hedgehog yet again, bird in hand. The pink and purple tail of the Summersea Cat emerged from the back of her dress. The four Circle children heard the tell-tale tune of its song with the presence of its tell-tail.

            The rest of the cat emerged and stared at Sandry. Its voice was a whisper. “How are you getting on?”

            Sandry crossed her arms and looked away. She had had enough of this ridiculous cat—it was  _his_  fault they were all here in the first place! Well, here in the garden. She sheepishly admitted that it was her fault they were here in this preposterous world altogether.

            “Not at all,” Sandry responded at last. The Queen turned to her, questioning to whom she was speaking. Sandry explained that it was the cat—that cat—but every time she pointed the Summersea Cat disappeared. Cat dirt!

            “I warn you!” the Queen shouted, wielding her bird at Sandry. “If I lose my temper, off with your head!”

            Briar, Daja and Tris hurried closer to Sandry. They turned in time to see the Summersea Cat appear again, smirking.

            “We could make her  _really_  angry…” it purred. The four of them gestured emphatically to stop. But the cat had a mind of its own, and hooked the Queen’s bird beneath her dress at the beak. When she swung, her skirts journeyed up—but Sandry stopped them by tugging the cloth out of the beak’s way. Tris blew the cat off with a strong gust of wind.

            But the cards acting as bridges had been distracted and did not move to the hedgehog the Queen had just hit; she missed every one of them and turned, scowling.

            “I have never lost a game!” She glared down at the four children. “Off with your heads!”


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen of Hearts, Queen of the land the four Circle children had found themselves in, seethed as she glared down at them.

The Queen of Hearts, Queen of the land the four Circle children had found themselves in, seethed as she glared down at them. She had just announced that it was off with their heads for her loss at her ridiculous garden game.

            The Queen’s lady—a limber little woman with a kind smile—stepped around beside her and pulled her dress. “Perhaps a trial, my dear? Couldn’t they have a trial?”

            “A  _what?_ ”

            “A trial—just, just a little one!” The lady stared at her Queen without looking away. The kindness in her face softened the Queen some.

            The four nodded their heads. All four of them had been in trial-like settings before; they knew they could handle that much.

            “Hmm... Very well. Let the trial begin!” The Queen’s lady performed a few cartwheels in elation.

            The four mages were pulled along by a pack of playing cards, the Queen and Queen’s lady walking ahead of them and whispering.

            _We’re in for it this time_ , Briar groaned. The others agreed and found they had little to add—what was there to say to this madness? It was off with their heads.

            _Not if we can help it,_  Tris corrected. Daja and Sandry clung to the thought.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen of Hearts sat at the trial of the four Circle mages looking none-too-pleased.

The Queen of Hearts sat at the trial of the four Circle mages looking none-too-pleased. They were there for making her ‘lose’ the garden game at which she cheated anyway. The Queen’s lady was at her side, stroking her arm and smiling gently. The starry starling Sandry and her friends had been chasing all through this ridiculous land was introducing the trial—the Queen, the members of the jury, loyal subjects and—at the lady’s insistent spindle poking—the Queen’s lady.

            The starling did its best to read through the complaints, but the Queen cut it off. “Skip that part! Get to the part where I lose my temper!”

            The starling hurried down to the bottom of the list. “—thereby causing the Queen to lose her temper!”

            The Queen turned to the four mages. Her grin was deadly. “Are you ready for your sentence?”

            “Sentence? We haven’t had a verdict,” Tris snapped from their podium. The Queen smashed down a fist.

            “Sentence first! Verdict after.”

            “That’s not judicial.”

            Sandry frowned. “Yes, that’s not the way—”

            “It’s  _my_  way,” the Queen retorted, “and I think you’ll find that’s good enough.” Her face grew red again. “Off with her—”

            “Wait!” The Queen’s lady interrupted, hopping over to the Queen. “We haven’t heard any witnesses—maybe we could hear one or two?”

            The Queen sighed and leaned against her arm. “Fine, very well. But  _get on with it!_ ”

            They were calling in witnesses from the tea party the children had managed to escape from what seemed like hours before. The Whacky Weaver was the first witness; she and the Queen’s lady seemed to get along well. The Weaver knew nothing of the event; the Queen found that remarkably important and had her jurors write it down on chalk slates. She snapped at Tris when the girl corrected that surely it was  _unimportant_.

            The table puppy from the garden tea party fireworks was the next witness; it recited more poetry, which the Queen decided was the most importance evidence yet. The four rolled their eyes, but if Tris had given up on arguing, the rest had no chance.

            The Mad Metalman was third. He giggled when a card knocked him on the bottom with a spade. The Metalman reported that, at the time of the crime, he had been home drinking tea, for it was his unbirthday!

            The Queen’s lady reminded the Queen that it was her unbirthday, too!

            _And now with the singing again!_  Briar moaned as a cloth was rolled out and teapots started dancing. It was the garden party all over again.

            Sandry covered her eyes.  _Not this nonsense again!_

 _And there’s the cat again_ , Daja pointed out, jerking her chin to the Queen; the Summersea Cat rested atop her head, where she had just placed a new hat. It added insult to injury, that was for sure. __


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That would teach them, then.

“There’s the cat!” Sandry called, pointing at a cat that had appeared atop the Queen of Heart’s head; she was sitting in on the trial she had instigated on them for making her lose a game in her gardens. Their trial had disintegrated into another unbirthday celebration.

            At the word ‘cat’, the table puppy—a witness at the trial—jumped out of a teapot and ran all about, which set the Mad Metalman off as it had at the original tea party. The Whacky Weaver joined her friend as they ran after the puppy, causing all sorts of commotion. It was the garden tea-party all over again, with their old hosts as mad as ever.

            “The silk, the silk!” everyone called at varying pitches and level of frenzy, all preparing to rub silk on the puppy’s nose to calm it. The Whacky Weaver smacked the beater of her loom all about, including the Queen’s head. The Queen’s lady gathered up the silk, but it went up the Queen’s nose instead of the puppy’s and made the woman sneeze.

            When the havoc cleared, Sandry was standing right in front of the Queen. She dropped the loom beater, which had somehow ended up in her possession. She shoved her hands in her pockets…and felt the bits of mushroom from the forest where they had all met the Caterpillar. The size-changing mushroom!

            “The mushroom!” She showed her friends the bits of mushroom before stuffing them into her mouth. Briar, Daja and Tris did the same. They all shot up in height, causing all those below them to shriek and scream and squawk. That would teach them, then.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Circle children had just grown during the trial instigated against them by the land’s Queen, all within Sandry’s imagination.

The Circle children had just grown during the trial instigated against them by the land’s Queen, all within Sandry’s imagination.

            The Queen’s right-hand lady was the first to recover from the panic of the four Circle children growing as tall as the courtroom’s ceiling during their trial or tea-party, whatever it could be termed. The lady read out, “All persons more than a mile high must leave the court immediately.”

            “We are hardly a  _mile_  high,” Tris sniped, crossing her arms. Sandry’s hands were on her hips.

            “You’re just a—”

            But as Sandry listed off her insults, the four grew smaller—for they had eaten the small side of a size-changing mushroom, too. By the time they were back within the courtroom at their previous size, the Queen was bearing down at them with a glare and a smirk.

            Briar had had quite enough of this. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m scramming.”

            “Right behind you, street-rat.”

            “I’ll give us some wind.”

            “Do cards wear clothes?”

            The four ran out of the courtyard, through gardens and into a maze. Briar separated the plants before them and had them close up again behind the running mages.

            Suddenly they were back in the circle of sea-birds, directed by the Willow from the water to dance around in circles and dry. How long ago had  _that_  been, Sandry wondered as she kept running along the beach.

            The rocks the four jumped over became teapots as they ran along the long table from the garden tea party, the Whacky Weaver and Mad Metalman hopping along beside them, insisting she couldn’t leave without tea. The six of them ran up a spoon and fell into the tea, which found the four mages back in the ocean again.

            Daja helped Tris swim up to the surface; Briar helped Sandry. The four grabbed onto the mushroom floating in the ocean—it was the Caterpillar’s mushroom, and he was back to being a caterpillar as he had been in the forest. The Queen was close behind, riding an upside-down bird through the waves.

            “What shall I do?” Sandry asked the caterpillar.

            He turned and blew smoke in her face. “Who  _are_  you?”

            But the four were off and running through a tunnel of pink-purple stripes before they could answer him. The Queen and her cards were after them again.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you are out,” the doorknob insisted. It opened its mouth wide. “Take a look!”

Sandry thought she would fall through the air again, despite that the tunnel she had just been running through  _had_  been solid a second before… She saw the door with the animated doorknob from before and grabbed for it. She was still running from an army: the Queen of Hearts and her army of cards.

            “Still locked!” the doorknob announced as she tugged. At least she felt more stable. Briar, Daja and Tris stepped up behind her.

            “But the Queen!” Sandry explained, glancing behind her. “I must get out!”

            “But you  _are_  out,” the doorknob insisted. It opened its mouth wide. “Take a look!”

            Sandry peered through the key hole. Indeed, there she was in the field of flowers next to Little Bear—and there was Daja, and Tris, and Briar all with her! They were all asleep!

            “We’re all asleep!” She exclaimed.

            The others turned to each other. “Now she gets it.”

            “Sandry, wake up, wake  _up!_ ” she screamed at herself, knocking on the door. She repeated it over and over. The tunnel with the mean Queen and the cards began to disappear, drifting away like clouds of smoke… A dream. A Sandryland dream.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One adventure was absolutely enough for the day.

“Sandry, Sandry… _Sandry!_ ” a voice called to her. She opened her eyes sleepily and pushed Little Bear’s large head off her.

            It was Niko. He was on to the others, waking them all up as well.

            Sandry sat up. She had dreamed it—dreamed it  _all_? What a ridiculous and frightening thing to dream! She stood and brushed the grass from her skirt, then ran to her friends and gathered them together in a group hug.

            “Oh, that was  _terrible!_ ” She squeezed them all tight. “I’m never falling asleep in lesson again!”

            “Well that’s good,” a familiar voice said from behind her—a voice that came with a smile, she knew. “I’d be worried what a sleeping girl might do at the loom.”

            Sandry turned. “Oh, Lark! Lark, I’m so happy to see you!” She ran to the woman and threw her arms around her; the momentum spun them both around.

            Lark kissed the girl on both cheeks. “Although if falling asleep in lessons warrants this must affection, I’ll admit I’m torn.”

            “Well  _I’m_  not,” a gruffer voice announced. Lark removed her hands from the girl’s waist. Sandry, free, ran to Rosethorn as well.

            “Rosethorn, I’m so glad you aren’t silly! No nonsense from you!” Sandry flung her arms around the woman and squeezed her tight, cheek pressed to the woman’s breast. Rosethorn coloured and gave the girl’s shoulder a pat, looking to Lark.

            “Maybe she pays attention to  _some_  things,” Rosethorn admitted, bemused but recovering into a grin.

            “What has gotten into you?” Niko questioned as he walked around the tree again. He was the next victim of Sandry’s hugs. He reddened and gave her hair a stroke.

            “Niko! You’re not a needle at all!”

            “I was never under the impression—”

            “What’s all this excitement?” came a low rumbling voice. Sandry smiled as she raced to Frostpine, who she hardly knew but as Daja’s endeared teacher. She hugged him too, but he had the sense to see it coming and duck down.

            “Hello little Sandry,” Frostpine greeted with a grin. “I’ve heard much about you.”

            “And I you! I’m wonderfully pleased you’re neither a Caterpillar nor a Mad Metalman.”

            “I wouldn’t be so sure about the last one,” Daja remarked with a full smile. She hugged Frostpine as well.

            “No one is going to pay me a spot of attention today, are they?” Niko asked aloud, as if to the air itself.

            Rosethorn threw grass at him. “No. It’d go to your head if we did. Lark convinced me we all need a picnic.”

            “If our Rosie is anything, it’s fair,” Lark said as she smiled and placed a large blanket over the grass, followed by the basket she had brought from Discipline and dropped in the grass at Sandry’s approach. “Come, all! Midday is upon us! Rosie and I even brought tea.”

            “Oh, I could go for some tea,” Frostpine admitted, smiling to Lark.

            The four children groaned as they stepped onto the blanket, all exchanging varied looks. The teachers shrugged. But at last they all sat: Briar, Rosethorn and Lark, Sandry and Tris, Niko and Frostpine, Daja and Little Bear—who wasn’t allowed on the blanket.

            Sandry—with the help of her friends—described their adventure.

            Lark laughed as it ended. “Well if that isn’t an Adventure in Sandryland, I don’t know what is. Would you like some tea, Sandry? This time I mean it—a whole cup, too!”

            Sandry accepted the tea and held her teacher’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re you, Lark.”

            “Thank you. I’m rather glad myself.”

            Niko bit into a piece of bread, chewing with consideration. Tris poked him. “What?”

            “It seems you all paid more attention to my lesson than I thought. Today was dream-walking.”

            Briar groaned. “Being there was bad enough—worse to know it counts as a lesson!”

            Rosethorn swatted him atop his hair. “Hush, boy, or I’ll have you painting my flowers petal by petal."

            “You never would.” Briar grinned at her.

            She laughed. “You’re right. Daft thing to do—I’d have you go paint Crane’s.”

            Even Lark laughed at that.

            Sandry smiled at the relief in her belly—that and the food, for sleeping and dreaming had taken a lot out of her. It was good to be back, that was for sure! Hopefully her next dreams would be something more pleasant. Though she wouldn’t mind if her friends were with her again.

            Only, she had to wonder what their minds were like…

            She stopped herself. One adventure was absolutely enough for the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! C: Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
